A Particle of Hope
by GreyWolf97
Summary: A Imperator, Blonde Fighter has been through some things, after growing up in Bullet Farm a horrifying situation changers her. She treks to The Citadel and makes a new life there, she's too smart and pretty for her own good. The beast grows hungry for new flesh and something more different that his standard platter. Will she take it or live up to her name and fight back?
1. A brief introduction

I went and watched Mad Max: Fury road a good few times I fancied writing a story on it. After managing to write a bit CaptainSchrodinger got involved and made a whole character with an entire backstory, I couldn't pass a great opportunity to bring this character too life, but first I have to introduce you to and Imperator Blonde Fighter (I know its canny crap but I aint creative with names most of the time).

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Mad Max: Fury Road fic

 **A particle of hope**

So you have come here to survive? Here in this world survival is the only rule you will live by, there is nothing but desert spanning the earth now, the world is hot and coarse, and it has no time for the weak. Only the strong survive. The strong will govern the weak, control them… dominate them. Those who live under those with great power are destined to perish, not by hunger or by thirst but by time. The great have no time for those lesser, they thrive off the suffering off of the pathetic and the down trodden.

Even though there is no life out there on the sandy plains there is one place said to be beautiful, Eden itself some say, 'The Green Place', many have left to find it and that many have never returned, is it possible that one man's oasis has blossomed into a dream for a people? Yes, it is. Hope is a lie when your people have been let down time and time again to a promise of a better land than this one.

The people, a collective, then grouped and segregated. That is what it is like; you have some who live in the rocks high above then those who live on the platforms, then them, the ones who live on the floor in shitty little shacks and even in the ground. But I am middle-upper class - if that is possible - my name is Blonde Fighter I'm a training Imperator, I don't count myself as _much_ as one of Immortan's war boys, one I'm not a boy and two I'm treat a lot differently that most of the white whelps and two his son Rictus is a right dick to me and my mates. I take after Imperator Furiosa as I've heard, but many of the war boys say I have the beauty of a bride with the bite of the Fury Road.

I sit today overlooking the canyon and all those poor people, the boys say it's bad for me to take pity on those who are not favoured by the Immortan, but I haven't been completely brainwashed. I hang my foot over the edge of the walkway and look down, _those poor people_ , empathy makes you weak, but I am strong. People cry not because they're weak. It is because they've been strong for too long. _I would cry for them but I have no tears to shed, for they have been taken from me the day I pledged my life to the Immortan._ I brush my side-fringe out the way of my right eye and growled, rather annoyed at myself I didn't grease it today, I was having one of those days where I felt nothing was going to happen. Aqua Cola was going to pour today, the massive gathering of weaklings reached their hands up, bowls and buckets towards the holes in the sides of the rock, waiting for the great flood.

Then there were footsteps on the metal walkway next to me, it was one of the war boys, Piston, I could tell by his boots and dodgy shuffling sound he made as he dragged his feet. I looked up to my left as he leaned against the galvanised railings. He looked down at me and stuck his tongue out, I shook my head, and he might as well still be a war pup the way he acts.

"What d'ya reckon's gonna 'appen the day?" Piston pointed at the hole above the water dispensers at the control panel, Immortan was the only one who ever touched those leavers and he usually made a big speech about how water is addicting and how you should resent its absence. "Camon we gotta do some work" Piston kicked my side and held his hand to help me up.

"We're only scavenging today, nothing else. It's boring" I spoke grabbing Pistons arm as he pulled me up. I looked at him and could tell he was real board too, half-life's need adrenaline to keep them going as well as blood donor, prone to disease, tumours and very early death which isn't really fair on them or their friends. I've had lots of War boys as companions, fellow drivers and they've been nothing more and nothing less than mate, I bet I've seen more than thirty come and go and that isn't even when we're fighting.

We wandered along the narrow stone corridors passing the barracks and rooms that belonged to the war boys and imperators, it was only me and Piston who were left of the original crew, we'd lost Cruci, Fadel, Itee and Jawker we needed some companions and not ones that would gawk at me. "What's the plan? Fight 'em? Threaten 'em?" Piston stopped out of the main barracks door and leaned on the wall looked at me with purple eyes.

"Friendly approach" I smiled wandering in hearing Piston sigh, he loved fighting and you could never drag him away from a possible fight. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled loudly, I did catch the attention of all of the white men. "Listen up! I need a few of yous for a scavenger run 'bout fifteen miles out. Anyone wanna join us?" I asked trying not to shout it as a command as most of the war boys had turned when I began to speak. I wandered over to a bed and picked up a dish of grease, I dipped my hand in and covered my fringe, it had powdered paint mixed in with it, which meant it was a good mix, it was a little grainy but coloured my hair perfectly, better than my own.

The barrack room was dull and dark with only a little hole cut in the rock, a very primitive sky light. You could see a little trickle of water that had found its way down the rocks and into the room. The beds were also primeval, no mattresses just piles of fabric although some had frames and pallets they didn't look comfortable at all. The things that stood out in the room were the white painted men and the wheel shrine, both without meaning if they weren't together.

"That's my mix" A war boy said slightly annoyed, I looked to my side; he was tall and well-built for a war boy, strangely he had no tattoos or visible branding, only the blackened eyes sockets of his stood out on him.

"Do we have a newly integrated pup?" I smiled as I turned dipping my hand in the grease again; I put the bowl down and grabbed the end of my ponytail covering that too in black, it dried fast and I combed my hair through it as I walked the length of the barracks looking at the men and deciding who I'd like as a pole cat. I stopped at the small wheel shrine at the end of the room and turned my back glancing at the pile of wheels on the floor near it.

"We're awl proper war boys, Fighter, we ain't no pups" The one who's grease it was talked. I saw Piston tense at the doorway; he wanted that fight so badly, I would have to stop him of course but luckily he kept to the wall and looked at the ground. "We jus' don't wanna go on no scav run" he continued, I frowned and looked at a war boy who was looking me over, my eyes snapped on his and he put his hands above his head in a mock surrender.

"Up y'get then" I motioned for him to stand, he had the figure of a pole cat and images branded over most of his body, there were gears going all up his arms and a one on the side of his neck going up behind his ear and on the left side of his head. I huffed and realised he wasn't moving, none of them were. "Shit the lot of y's then" I said angrily as I wandered towards the doorway not even stopping for the shuffling of someone behind me, Piston and I headed towards the garage.

The walk got a little nippy, well considering I was wearing my Fury attire, sandy shorts with my Immortan token attached to the side to cover my pistol and dark brown tank top, which all was very scruffy. On the brighter side I got a few days wear out of it and a week at the most. I got the attention of a lot of war boys when I'd walk and they'd continue to say that I should be at the top with the wives and not down here with the scruffies. Sometimes even piston would walk me passed the Immortan's hydroponics room which lead to his 'penthouse', Piston would always shove me through the door playfully to try and get Rictus to see what the fuss was about, but I never lingered there long enough for him to find us.

The halls got narrower and narrower up until the point you could feel the residue from the walls resonate next to your skin. Then you could smell that odour that sent most of the war boys into a chemical high, guzzoline, you have to admit it is a rather appealing smell a lot like the fresh grass I the hydroponics. Then there was one of my babies my Ram pickup very worn but there was nothing the grease monkeys could handle.

"Aw, thanks lads" I smiled to the blackthumbs "Metack! where are you mate?!" I shouted, he was usually round here most of the time, he loved to mess about with the vehicles and tell the war pups for nicking off with his tools.

The tall bald man came stepping round the back of my truck nodding at Piston behind me. "What can I do for you Fighter ?" he asked as he leant on his good right leg.

"I want to take my lass out today and do a scav run, heard from lads lingering around Corpus that theres a nice Buzzard wreck _just_ in their territory" I added a smile, he knows that after the last time I went out the truck got wrecked and the lads had to literally push it onto the lift and into the workshop, it was a lucky day. Metack grinned back and looked past me as a few of the war boys I had asked to come with us came through the entrance.

"Great cooking with gas" Piston clapped his hands and looked at the lads.

"Pack it in guys, Fighter on the move!" Metack shouted loud and clear as he got the keys out of his pocket, he looked at the truck, it had the boomsticks on it ready and the sand had worn away some of the paint that was left, leaving it mostly rusted and orange. Piston had left to go and get my wheel and I opened the driver side door and got in, the seat had been replaced, the last time we fought Buzzards me and Piston had to jump out the cab because they threw in a very pathetic Molotov. I was sat up straight and took another look at the group of war boys I'd recruited.

"You can do better than that I said, seriously the bitch was kicking and screaming" one of the war boys was talking and they started laughing and the story he told.

"Knock it off Krands, Fighter don't wanna hear about your screwing sessions" Metack spoke from his seat.

"Course she does, she wants to know what she's gettin' 'erself into" The war boy smilled and nodded "I know what y want" he winked, I felt thoroughly disgusted there as I turned my head and focused on the internals of my truck. That war boy, Krands, a rare one, he had black hair, half a head of it and the left side shaved, and a pierced left eyebrow. The detail of the cogs going up his left side was very intricate and coloured, he must know the Tatters rather well for that. The rest of the stuff he was packing was a tad above standard but still stuff that comes at a high bartering price. "See something you like love?" Krands smirked as he cause me looking at him.

"Careful, Krands" Metack warned again as he got up "You can hear Piston bloody panting down that corridor" Metack stretched his arms in front of him and went round to the passenger side of the truck and hopped in. I was still sitting there with my door open waiting for Piston to come back with my wheel. Sure enough a few seconds later Piston came rushing down the corridor with my wheel in hand, giving it too me he took his place on the back of the truck behind my drivers side.

"Righty oh girls, get yer arses on here and lets go for a field trip!" he shouted and sounded a little more happy, I slammed the truck door and attached my wheel, I ran my fingers over the small human skull that made up the middle of my wheel, there was a little fracture above the eye socket that I always caught my finger on. I snapped out of my dreamy state and hung my hand out the truck and hit the door, it clanged and echoed in the sandstone workshop.

"Signal to go boys, get that lift on we're coming down!" Piston shouted to the blackthumbs standing idly as our own war boys stepped into the back of the truck and two others got their motorbikes out to follow and spot.

"Lets have a canny day lads, and maybe I'll get ya commendations" I smiled as I reversed. Hopefully this will be a nice day, no storms and no sneaky Buzzards but whatever I've wished for has gone backwards so I hope that this day will be a crappy day and someone dies.

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A few minutes later overlooking the road out of The Citadel

"She's going out now Rictus" Corpus talked to his brother.

"Fine, now I can talk to da without any of her mate listening" Rictus walked off in the direction of the vault were he was going to have a good talking to from his dad, instructions and ways to get a work around what was going to happen in the next few weeks with a certain Imperator who was too smart for her own good.


	2. Buzzards, Bandages and Bastards

Well I have so much to offer and I've got into writing this so here goes chapter two. Fighter and her lads are out on a standard scav run, but it turns out that there's nothing standard about it, A Buzzard wreckage entices them in and a fight breaks out, what is going to ensue, nothing that anyone seen coming I tell you that.

Kamelot - Fallen Star.

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So we're out here near the back of beyond, what am I saying there is no back in this wasteland. I've drove off road and we're on the edge of our territory trying to find that Buzzard wreck. A few minutes of diving across the dunes we spotted it, a lovely wreckage it was, the back of it had been torn off but the front was still fully intact. First come first serve I guess. I braked gently and we halted a few meters away from the downed car.

"What ya seeing Piston?" I said loudly out the window

"Nothin' yet" Piston replied "I wonder if the biker boys have seen anythin'?... Oi! you lads seen anythin' yet?!" He hollered as he leant over the top of the cab, I turned and backed up to the wreckage and the warboys hopped out they started using their hand tools to deconstruct the car.

"Well if you count a few Buzards as nothin' then yeah. Eyes right guys!" one of the bikers replied and pointed to our right at the large spiky cars sitting on the ridge over looking our position, you just heard the Buzzards revving their engines for a few seconds I guess our window for running away had just closed. The buzzards came down the sand banks tossing up sand up into the air. The growls of the Buzzards vehicles were growing louder.

"Just keep going lads. That's decent salvage" I spoke as the lads started throwing stuff in the back, I stepped out of the cab and gestured for Metack to take the wheel.

"Alright then" Metack said, the boys continued to haul the stuff in the back as the bikers were distracting the Buzzards, we didn't have enough people with us. Metack closed the drivers door and sat waiting for the go ahead to take off. Piston on the other hand was lancing, he held the boom stick and tossed it in his hands impatient and wondering why the Buzzards were biding their time. I unholstered my pistol and readied it, checking over my revolver, it was fully loaded. One of the bikers got smashed into one of the buzzards cars and off of his bike, he rolled onto the sand and growled running to his nearby bike and hurried back onto it.

"They've got flamethrowers!" A war boy who was salvaging shouted. Buzzards didn't usually pack a flame, spikey cars and heavy equipment, but hardly did they ever use spitters of their own. "They cannot be serious, 's only a ol' junker" he added loudly. I put my pistol back in the holster and began to help on the salvage.

"The buzzards are circling, it means its got some value" I spoke looking at the cars driving around us still" we had salvaged all we could, literally striped the thing it was a record time for the guys by the looks of it. "We better move... Bikers! get your arses into gear!" I shouted at the two bikers who where getting chased by the Buzzards. One of the two was short lived, he decided to drive alongside a spikey car, he dodged the first time but now the Buzzard had him impaled on the side of his car diving further towards us and hitting the turbo kicking more sand into the air and growling even louder.

Our truck did a once round and left me and the war boys sticking to the wreckage, Piston was holding on tight to the back of the truck and he got the chance to throw a boom stick into the cab of one of the Buzzards cars, he threw it. There was bits of flesh and metal that came flying at us. I raised my arm to shield my face from the debris, I couldn't help but smile, the adrenaline had been pumping but not as fast as it was now.

"Coming!" Piston yelled, then Metack nearly reversed into the wreck Krands jumped and hit the deck as Metack nearly hit him, I didn't want the body scratched completely to fuck. The war boys with me threw little items that were in the cab of the wreck at a last ditch attempt to find something decent to barter with.

"Oh shit" Krands spoke, one of the Buzzards had broken off, began hurtling towards us and the passenger was leaning out of the window with his arm extended and aiming a small pistol at us. We hit the deck again to avoid the pot shots; Piston slammed his fists on the cab of our truck and in response Metack took off again, the remaining two Buzzards took off after them.

"And to think it was going to be a lovely day" I spoke to the lads as I pushed myself off of the ground, I spat the sand out of my mouth, why was it sand, so annoying the little speckles of sand that got everywhere. Metack was away from the wreck and back where we first saw the Buzzards on the sand bank, he was driving them back further into their own territory, _crazy fool_.

The flamer which was sitting on the ridge began to crawl towards us, we could do nothing but stand there, one of the war boys made a run in the direction Metack and Piston went unfortunately he was inside the range of the flamer and got set on fire, the flame spat out and you could hear the war boy scream as us remaining three took cover behind the wreck, _poor lad didn't even have a chance to spray his chrome._ I thought sadly. The flamer was still crawling along the sand when I heard the roaring of my truck on the turbo, it caught the attention of the Buzzard flamer and I took a quick look over the roof of the wreck to see him facing my vehicle.

"No you don't, you ain't burnin' my bairn" I spoke as I unholstered my revolver and aimed at the guzzoline tank attached to the flamethrower, _on second thoughts I'll go for the head,_ I didn't realise the flamer was nearly fully turned to face us as Metack attempted to drive in and pick us up again, "Shit" I had no time to aim but somehow I managed to get the bastard in the head, it must have a been a decent enough shot, the guys head bloody exploded! I heard Piston holler with excitement as I made sure the war boys got in the back of the truck first, the truck was getting peppered with gunfire from a submachine gun, another Buzzard came rolling along to join the party, we were seriously in for an arse kicking, Metack was still driving away from the buzzards and now with all the salvage moving in the back of the truck. There was a break and the Buzzards grouped together giving Metack the chance to drive for us. The buzzards set off, they kicked up a lot of sand and one came towards us while there was another one that smashed into the back of our truck, the resulting crash sent some salvage flying and nearly Piston off of the back but the war boy had a tight grip on the roof.

"Bastard!" I heard Piston shout, he then threw a boom stick at the buzzard, it was a half decent shot even though it didn't destroy the car its back end caught fire and the passenger of the buzzard bailed.

"Watch out!" Metack shouted as they drove past us the mate of the Buzzard that had bailed out drove and stopped near us, jumping out and spraying his submachine gun, that bloody Buzzard that bailed out, a fist fight that ended badly, the Buzzard had a spikey pole... Pain... There was a bar sticking out of my abdomen, I was laying on my back staring into the sky as I heard honking and an explosion, then felt hands grab me and pull me onto the back of our truck.

"Holy shit" I was sitting upright in the back of my truck bleeding out. Piston was shouting something, I couldn't hear a word but I nodded, I think I nodded, my state must've frightened him, the Buzzards were still following us but at a distance, one of them boosted and dunched us nearly making Metack lose the back end. There were no boom sticks left, I felt for my pistol on my hip and winced at the vibration of the truck reverberating through the pole in my side. "C'mere" I motioned for Piston who was going to pick up some of the scrap with the war boys and throw it at the tailgating Buzzard. I pushed Piston down out of my field of view and aimed my pistol with a bloodied shaky hand.

"You're one crazy bitch" Piston spoke as he sat down next to me. I readied for a shot that could've possible ended up with our deaths if I had missed. When I shot my vision seemed to blur, I seen the war boys punch the air, piston was ecstatic "What a fuckin' shot! Wooo!" I heard Metack honk the horn a few times.

"They're backing off! Yeah come into the Immortan's territory! We dare you! Bitches!" I heard that arsehole Krands shout.

"Hey, hey, no, you ain't goin' nowhere Fighter" Piston tapped my face a few times, I reckon I was delirious or some medical shit like that, I tapped on the pole impaling me trying to say the words _get it out,_ but blood y'know, life was pouring out of me. "Get us home NOW!" Piston leaned into the cab through the smashed back window. "Krands get here" Piston ordered, the pickup of speed would make it easy for any of the lads to fall of the back of the truck and I did hope that Krands would've fallen off. "Give me a hand mate; we gotta get this out of her!" Krands shook his head.

"Not all the way" I smirked, probably an innuendo, really I'm only going off what Piston said I said.

"Yeah, that" Krands shook his head "This is one for the Mechanic not us mate" Krands flipped his hair and sat down. So that bar was stuck in me good and I was away with the fairies, blacked out low on blood. The rusted iron bar wasn't going anywhere until I got to the Mechanics biological workshop. All I could really think of was the blood going down me, trailing around the floor and Piston shitting himself coz he didn't want to lose another one of his mates before his end.

We got home.

"C'mon nearly there. Jus' a scratch. You're gonna be fine Fighter" Piston slung his arm around me and bean to drag me to the workshop with the help of Metack.

"Ooo to whom do I owe the pleasure..." organic said trying on his best posh accent "Get 'er on the table" he gestured as he grabbed his stuff and lay it out on the table next to him. Whistling as he did so he prodded gently at the large rusty bar sticking out of the right side of my abdomen. "Hold 'er down mate" Organic motioned to Piston, but I hate being held down, instead I gripped Piston's hand tight. I was probably out, gone or something.

"Crazy for takin' on those Buzzards on yer bill" Piston smiled, but it was painful also for him. This war boy, more like man, like Furiosa's Ace, Piston cares too much for me, there was a ratcheting sound then a clunk, Organic had put a cargo sling round my legs to hold me in place and nicely too not so I wouldn't lose circulation in my legs.

"You should know better, after all Rictus has got his eye on you" Organic slipped on some remotely clean looking gloves and looked at the bar again

"And what the fuck is that supposed mean, Fighter ain't no breeder!" Piston spoke slightly alarmed.

Organic ignored Pistons remark "yep that's gone through" he nodded contemplating what he was going to do next.

"Fighter, this is gonna hurt like a fucker so scream all ya want" Organic continued sarcastically as he firmly grasped the bar, the pressure of that just hurt. I looked hazily at Organic and Piston held my head down.

Black and only noise

"Shouldn't you knock her out or something?" Piston spoke as he looked down at a seemingly unconscious Fighter, removing his hands and placing them at either side of my head glancing over at organic still trying to figure out how to pull that pole out of her.

"Slim chance of her waking back up mate, just lucky that she's out. Gonna have to get her hooked up to a blood bag soon as this things out though" Organic pulled a little at the pipe and it was a little too harsh, that woke me back up immediately. One of the many reasons why I didn't like him and the concern for the welfare for my body began to rise. Organic thinks he's better than everyone else just because he's the closest thing that The Citadel has to a doctor and that of course the Immortan's bitch.

"Jus' fuckin' pull it out and quit pissin' about!" I shouted feeling the pipe tug, it's amazing how the body reacts to such a serious wound and how you can go from black out to fully awake and furious in a matter of seconds. I see Piston smile above me, I think it was just because I shouted at Piston.

"Careful what ya wish for love" Organic twisted the rusted bar, I didn't think I'd felt pain like that, ever, being mostly conscious for this, it just pierced through me sending toxic shocks up my sides and round my abdomen.

A load of screams and swears echoed in that momenr, at the same time I wanted to go kill everything, a rage that just emerged to mask the pain, the whimpering and cries of a hurting little girl not the Fighter who got stuck in the first place.

 ** _"Not everything comes so easy, this will be difficult, it will hurt and you will feel an absence. Only if you wish too you can be the only one to take vengeance upon the men that gave you this unwanted responsibility"_**

"My my, you have some lungs on you love" Organic pulled at it still, this eighteen inch spiked column like bar was nearly out of me, he had to brace his boot on the table for extra leverage to try and yank the thing out.

"Don't call 'er that, she ain't no softie" Piston spoke with acidity as he snapped into eye contact with Organic, all the doctor did was twist, Piston digressed quickly as I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes tight. It had snagged on something.

"Don't start flappin'" Organic used one of his hands to move the caught tissue off of the nick of the bar, "there" the bar coming out of my abdomen made a satisfying _shlick_ then a metal noise when Organic threw it on the floor.

"Alright" Piston smiled his purple eyes glinting down at me, I blinked slowly, the loss of blood, tired, and nothing was making sense. "You not got any painkillers?" Piston asked Organic as he was cleaning out the wound and it was stinging. Time seemed to be skipping in my mind; I think I could just couldn't….make any sense of it.

"Pah. Painkillers?!" Organic laughed "You ain't gettin' none of them" he added as he began stitching me up.

I reckon I was out for a long time, I woke up lying on a slab of rock, I was still feeling exhausted, well obviously, my hazy vision was still there a little, and I probably slept the pain away that I didn't understand. Even the slightest thing would usually wake me up but in this case I think my body made me rest. I never ever slept on my back ever, the fact I had been placed like this just annoyed me, but y'know I needed blood and that is what I got.

I COULDN'T MOVE, the sensation of being pinned down, I willed my body to move and must of made some noise.

"Shhh" Piston appeared above me then kneeled beside me.

"I,.. I can't move" I hesitated as my voice crackled, Piston still didn't help

"You can, yer body jus' aint woke up yet" Piston smiled, grasped my wrist and dropped it, "See" he said as my hand dropped and went into pins and needles. I struggled to get up, Piston finally helped me. It was a sensation to feel like you weren't dying but a less likable one knowing someone is giving me this biological fuel.

"You okay though?" I asked Piston "I mean with the night fevers and everything" I groaned leaning against the jagged rock, I was croaking, my throat was dry and I needed some water, I held my hand over the wound, and had to unfortunately admit, that bastard mechanic had done a good clean up job.

"Y'know that was one of the first good sleeps I've 'ad in a long while" Piston nodded his head then looked at something above and to the left of me.

"I was wondering when you'd acknowledge my existence!" It was a very loud voice, I turned my head to face it and to tell you the truth was rather surprised to see a battered and bruised bloodbag… smiling, "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?" the man laughed as I looked back at Piston.

"Organic better have not hooked me up to some crazy" I spoke annoyed, this guy, MY bloodbag had started swinging his body back and forth continuing to say how boring his experience had been at the citadel so far.

The coming round the corner with a couple of war boys who managed the bloodbags Organic began to clap "Oh she's awake, I was beginnin' to think yer didn't have the strength in ya" he came over looking at my bloodbag and adjusting his muzzle or something.

"I don't bite, promise" the man spoke to Organic "I am nothing but a humble human being, with very few possessions that I hold dear to my heart… But are you sure you can handle my blood Imperator?" The man's personality totally flipped at the end of that sentence, was this person once who just couldn't handle the world outside? Or had he just embraced it, became like that of a wild fury storm?

"Can you tell me who the fuck this guy thinks he is" I think the anger which was meant for Organic came out on the wrong person, that guy hanging upside down had spoken for no more than ten minutes and he was already getting on my nerves.

"You don't know who THIS guy is?" The war boy on the left side of Organic spoke

"Well you are in for a story. Did I tell you how much I love telling tales of my badassery on the fury road and how nearly everyone I've came into contact with has their guts wrenched out and used as the paint on my beautiful beast friend The Baskerville, that's why its sooo red, you see. Action, consequence…"

"Shut the fuck up! Seriously what the hell are you running on?!" I had a pole stuck in me, now this…

And that is how I met Jackson. The guy who just screamed 'have a love hate relationship with me'. I had to admit he was still an annoying bastard but events after this changes my perception of him entirely.

* * *

 **AN:** This took so long because of the bastard I call captainSchrodinger.

 **She means that im the sole reason she didn't abandon this... YOUR WELCOME.**

Yes so that arsehole, fair enough I gave him a character and but I mean haway man, hassling me in the library shoving fucking his own character's ideas down my throat while I TRY and write this is why it took so long.

 **Again she means that I gave her endless motivation to bloody finish this, again your welcome.. Oh and FYI my characters are the high point of her day... and she knows it.**

I appreciate the help yes and the motivation, but please one more annoyance and you will never see your baby Baskerville again!

 **...You kill of characters and cars faster than the actual fucking movie most of your OC's would be dead or would end up dead by the end of most of your stories. If it wasn't for me that is.**

One OC would be dead... but I swear... ugh... is there any point in arguing? seriously... I will get it done and you know it... you're helping me and I love that fact... who else is gonna annoy me by showing me youtube videos and interrupting me while you shout 'get it done' screw you James... I'm gonna get this done... just give me time or I will make,... nah.

 **Na those youtube videos brighten up your life that new star wars trailer was sick as fuck. and how long has it been since you first posted this story HMMMM. CUS I THINK ITS BEEN AT LEAST 5 MONTHS HMMMMMM**

Say what you want, I will get this done *Turns light off and leaves the room*

THE END

 **I DO NOT CONDONE THIS ROLEPLAY WHAT SO EVER**

Deal with it roleplaying can be a lot worse... Deal with it *Puts on sunglasses outside of room*

 **I detest you sometimes... IM OUT**


	3. Jackson's Story

Thanks very much to you's (you know who you are) albumplush, IMMORTAN-JOES-FIRST-BREEDER, Run-Like-Hale, Shyla Moon, StTudnoBright, kelsey112, Alice-Hatter and Broken Thought Of One. Ta very very much ;)

So right we're a little bit near to the juicy bits of the story now but lets hear the one of the long-haired bloodbag that is attached to this Imperator... Oh and **minor spoiler alert if you haven't played the game**

Songs for this particular chapter can vary

\- Beautiful Day - Axel Rudi Pell (That's a cover of U2)

\- Undead - Hollywood Undead

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A few hours later that guy was still talking, apparently his name was Jackson and he was slightly insane, just slightly. I swear he just talked and talked, he even tried to get one of the war boys to lift up the back of his shirt and show me his thunderbird tattoo, but the war boy refused to go anywhere near the man. I don't know how people can be afraid of a bloke with a pussy ponytail, I stood up, and damn it felt like my legs hadn't been walked on.

It's just a tattoo, representing you, nothing special" I said as I stepped towards him and spun him round to look at this so called amazing tatt.

"Surely you mean it's a fucking remarkable tattoo that shows me as an omen of war, a one man walking army, a solar divine spirit kicking ass and… and well killing people…" Jackson went on; his shackles were moving as he still attempted to talk with his hands. It was an alright tattoo unlike the black marker jobs most of the war boys had. When I mean alright, I mean simple, like an arrow-like head and wings spanning onto his shoulder blades, its feathers like blades of a knives and long tail feathers reaching to the middle of his back, no colour just simple black. "It's a motherfuckin' thunderbird"

"Fighter!?" Pistons voice called from the corridor, I left my bloodbag and sat back down, stretching in my still bloodied clothing, sighing as I looked, I really needed a wash and change. Piston wandered into the room with a couple of war pups "You're littlens are missin' you" he added as the two war pups ran off, I smiled and unhooked the pipe of blood running from the bloodbag to me.

"Hope you have a nice life, Jackson" I stood looking at the bloodbag… Jackson he has a name, he is a human being. I pushed my right hand into his chest just so he could have a bit of a swing, a little nice gesture I believe he just said in a monotone voice "weeee" while staring deadpan straight at me.

"Wait, wait, wait. You have to hear his long tale of how this guy got here; he is the son of destruction and rage" One of the war boys in charge of guarding the bloodbags spoke up from his seat "He'll just blabber on till we listen and there's no doubt I'll be reduced to a war pup with these amazing stories of war"

"I remember the good old days of the Thunderdome and Bartertown, back when me, The Thunder was but a mere spark. When I could get away with driving anywhere I wanted to without looking over my shoulder because all of the people I'd came into contact with are killed by yours truly. Too bad Mr bossy boots managed to gather some pups together and create this little 'utopia' " the man continued on so I sat down, Piston and the pups could wait I needed to hear this.

* * *

Jackson's Flashback

(A.N **bold** is Jackson talking to Fighter in the present while hanging upside down like a boss)

"So let me start this off in the middle because I'm a badass storyteller like that"

In the wasteland

A man wanders the dunes, shirtless, clutching his left arm, it looks to be blackened, no not with bruises, with burns, serious flames had looked to have licked up his arm and engulfed it, like a phoenix had bumped him returning from the dead. His neckless and glasses glinted in the hot sun, his shadow cast in front of him as he was stepping towards his car. He reached for it. But it disappeared.

"Fuck you brain" The man muttered as he continued to follow the facades his mind made up for him and surely as day turns to night he was determined to find his beloved, his baby, his car.

 **"So this is what had happened. I had gotten myself into a little pickle with the Roadkill faction, something about killing the majority of their guys back near The Jaw oh and one of their Top Dogs but that's beside the point, pre this burnt appendage I was splayed on the floor with some tosspot telling me what a model human being I am"**

He felt the guzzoline pouring onto his left arm, it glugged out of the jerry can. He was laying on a concrete floor rather unconfutable seen as though he had been beaten a few moments earlier, he was now eagled, arms and ankles roped tightly to thick rebar sticking out of the ground.

"You should learn that everyone gets their comeuppance eventually" the man talked he had some dirty blue tinted goggles settled on his forehead and some very worn biker leathers dashed with red paint. He was looking down at Jackson considering what to do to the man that had massacred half a battalion of his men; the guy then threw the gas can down, it clunked onto the floor as he looked back at Jackson expecting another remark because really Jackson never liked to shut up, always loud and always wanting everyone to know he's there and not afraid. What a waste Jackson thought I could have used that can for my car or at least pour it on you selfish prick.

"Oh, go screw yourself" Jackson coughed, he was half beaten and it turns out there was people who knew those he had killed and they really must of liked them if they'd injured him that badly. Jackson looked over to his wastelanded orange '67 Impala, smiling; that was the thing that kept him going "anything you do to that car I will do to you" he spoke aggressively when the man approached his car.

"Language Jackie" The man smiled "Your car is nice, must have took you a while to do it all up… Might add it to the collection when I'm finished with you... mount your skull on the front maybe?" The Roadkill leader then began to pace back and forth, allowing Jackson the time to apologise maybe, or make it up to him.

 **"Nah this is the Thunderbird we're talking about here, although I lay there defeated I still had my crazy to get out of the situation. This motherfucker was just standing there he didn't even have the stones to light a match earlier, or pour another can on me, I think he knew I'd get out of it, come back for him and well do a whole bunch of rituals to please the gods"**

"Just let me go before you regret having me pinned here. I will come after you… I mean come on how could you do this to someone like me? I'm going to come back with a vengeance, find you and make sure you feel the wrath of the thunder and lightning I wield" Jackson's energy returned to him, little rest was needed for him because he spent countless hours driving and tinkering with his car

"Don't you get it Jackie? You gone coo-coo… But hell I'm touched that you're making up speeches before you die" The man standing over next to Jackson's car lit up a cigarette.

 **"Yeah a fucking tab, in this day and age, in this shit hole of a time. So I said…"**

"Any for me?" Jackson smiled, that wide smile of his a grin if held was rather scary, but did it intimidate the bastard over near his car, no. Maybe the fumes off of the guzzoline were taking effect, nah, Jackson wasn't that much of a fumer.

"You know why you're here…" The man backed away from the car and began to speak again as he puffed some smoke "What happened to the little girly you were transporting?" The roadkill leader stepped towards Jackson and was fiddling with the knife on his chest piece. Jackson's grin diminished, the growl and anger still lingered in him but that made him show it.

"Boss, we got Buzzards sniffing about" Another man appeared from a distant door and pointed to the garage door. Now Buzzards were a nasty faction of what most assumed to be Russians, a bad bunch who put rusty barbs all over their cars, who threw boom barrels out the back if you were perusing them, some people even think that most are cannibals.

"Looks like, I've got some business to attend to" The Roadkill leader fished in his pockets to pull out the keys to Jackson's Impala of which he had a small voodoo doll an old game cartridge and an cool looking cat on it, it jingled when the man tossed it in his hand. The roadkill leader then takes the nearly finished cigarette and looks at Jackson "Have a lovely day" he smiled as he threw the tab at the pool of guzzoline next to Jackson. But walking away he expected to hear Jackson screaming in pain but…. No, as the Roadkill leader reached the Impala he turned and fished in his pocket again with his free left hand getting a box of matches out, he's classy like that, old style. He opened the door and put the keys in the ignition before turning back and striking the match.

Once…

Twice…

 **"It's not like I boast much or not but ha I wasn't that scared, he could have doused my entire body instead but there was some sort of backwards logic to the whole situation, like why should you kill me, I'm such a loveable guy."**

"For fuck sake" The Roadkill leader sighed looking back at Jackson who was sniggering at the fact he could have just thrown the cigarette at him and it would have all went smoothly.

Third time lucky…

This was the part where Jackson stopped laughing at started thinking about how he was going to get out of the camp, get his Impala back and win the dame…

 **"Well if there was one I would hella win her over."**

"Third time lucky, bitch" The leader threw the match and got into Jackson's Impala, simple as that for that bastard of the man.

Jackson's left arm and upper shoulder were engulfed in flames, melting his skin and burning into the soft flesh. Something different to describe, completely incomparable to a gunshot wound or a blade, through his loud painful screams you could hear the crackling of the fire and the gunshot that saved his nerves from being utterly singed. Jackson's eyes watering from the heat of the flames now soothed by a splash of water from a pipe.

 **"Surprising? Yeah since when has there ever been water in pipes? Since the before times, the Roadkill must've been swimming in the stuff."**

The splash was startling but it made Jackson thankful for his life, well thankful for his arm being intact. He looked at his charred arm, black like charcoal and smelling like it too, like that coal had been used to cook some meat; the smell of seared flesh filled his nostrils disgusting him.

 **"There are little ways to describe the feeling of nearly losing a limb, nearly lose something that would most likely impact my driving more or less although I am pretty skilled behind the wheel *smiling* but to be deprived of something that would make me feel complete, get rid of that something that makes me feel normal. I still have never found the person who shot that pipe though."**

The rope that tied his left hand was obviously burnt and even though pain shot through him he managed to rotate his shoulder so that it was by his side properly, he hissed at the pain, swearing often, needing to get some medical attention of sorts.

 **"Skip all the boring shit okay, I finally find my pride and joy as well as my beautiful baby model 1887 *speaking all coochy-coo like to a child*, she was just sitting there driver door open and a Buzzard car opposite her, and that Roadkill bastard lying there face down in the sand."**

Fortunately or unfortunately for the guy he was dead, Jackson couldn't do his killing and ripping and tearing and shooting and…

 **"Well you get it"**

"That's right fucktard" Jackson spoke as he walked towards his car, changing his mind before he got in he ran back to the body of the man and kicked the corpse "That's for stealing my car you bastard!" he shouted, feeling slightly better after that he got into his car and drove off trying to avoid any convoy routes and attempt to get a rest at Gastown.

Jackson felt at peace in his car, even though every little movement sent sharp messages of pain up his arm and shoulder. His beauty and only official companion he ever needed, his '67 orange Impala…

 **"Complete with blacked out windows, D'eagle under the driver's seat etc. Can't tell you all my hiding places or else it wouldn't be so lovely and mysterious"**

Sometime later he was approaching the outskirts of Deep Friah's territory on the way to Gastown you could tell from the piles of junk that were beginning to build up and up. Best thing he loved other than his car… that had to be his music, at this particular time it was Mr Blue Sky by ELO, real contrast.

 **"But hey it's nice to drive to"**

Jackson's arm was killing, stinging, annoying and he was becoming increasingly afraid that it might stink out his car. The Junk piles were growing and he had passed a few outposts, Gastown, after the demise of Scabrous Scrotus came under the control of The People Eater, a humungous man who still counted costs like it meant a big deal to anyone. Unlike most of the people of the wasteland trading didn't entirely interest Jackson; it was the Gastown races that they still ran after the demise of the champion Stank Gum.

 **"The pain was still there but y'know I'm not a fucking pussy, jus knock down the rum to make it bearable. If you do have some drink I might need it, getting a little headache off all this hanging upside down… Anyway Gastown…"**

The orange Impala rolled into the common area of Gastown, Jackson looked around for a parking space found one and hopped out, and trying as little as possible to move his left arm, pain was inevitable he was convinced the fire was still happening on his arm. Getting out of his car he put his handgun in the holster on his right hip covering it with his jacket.

"Oh you're back!" The Outcrier shouted from atop his overlook, he rushed down the stairs pulling his 'lectricity boy with him "What can I do… ooo that looks nasty" he backed off a little pulling a disgusted face.

 **"Now the Outcrier if you didn't know is the announcer and organiser of the Gastown races, real stubborn guy if you didn't know him, but he is really weak when a guns to his skull, everyone is susceptible to deals when they have a barrel against their temple, I don't really understand the concept of it"**

"I need to make some hurt" Jackson wanted to hold his burnt arm but didn't want to show any form of weakness, he advanced on the Outcrier knowing what the guy was going to try and say next. "No, no, you are putting me in the race" Jackson added,

"The standard rules apply that you gotta have a fighter riding with you, an' I can't see that little missy you brought here the last time sittin' in the passenger" The Outcrier shrugged and looked behind Jackson at his car probably thinking it would be good scrap. Jackson on the other hand was looking at the floor with his right hand clenched anger surfacing again, the only way he'd get it out is if he'd race and blow shit up.

"You know what I have to say about your rules…" Jackson just evil eyed The Outcrier then spoke "Fuck your rules" he smiled but he bit his lip in pain, his alcohol was wearing off and the stinging of his arm was making an unwanted return.

"Best get yourself off to Abdominus" The Outcrier pointed in the direction of the inner living areas of Gastown "I'll look after that for you" he then added as he pointed to Jackson's car. Jackson then smiled but The Outcrier took it lightly.

"Touch my car, m'kay and you are going to lose your face" Jackson pulled out his pistol and pointed it at The Outcrier "If I find anything missing when I come back I'm going make sure lover boy there aint going to feel anything of you ever again" the long haired man continued and seen Lectricity Boy make a flurry of facial expressions.

 **"Weapons weren't really 'permitted' in Gastown, disputes were to be handled the old fashioned way either through fistfights for Thunderdome. But I was pretty confident that The Outcrier wasn't going to be touching my baby"**

"You really don't mean that" The Outcrier laughed nervously not knowing what to do with his hands.

"Oh I, me, yeah I mean every freakin' word of it. Now fuck off before I get that trench knife with your name on it!" Jackson pulled the hammer back and cocked the gun like they did in those stupid gang films aiming it at The Outcrier.

"No bother" The Outcrier bowed as Jackson growled, it was unknown to Jackson whether it was for his adversary or his burns.

"Ow ow you fucker" Jackson put his gun back in its holster and walked in the direction of the guts of Gastown, to pay the butcher-doc a visit. "Bastard better not touch her" Jackson spoke to himself as he passed the downtrodden. The mystical bond between man and machine, all because the driver don't pick the car, the car pick the driver (apologies for that reference I felt like hoying it in); or because the beauty angel of combustion said so.

The darkness and the stench of death, rotting bodies of the damned and children running rabid in little packs, Jackson nodded to himself reassuring himself his car was going to be alright, even though any sane person would be worrying about the injuries they had sustained. It's just the way he operated. The dripping tunnels, the damp, the sound of leaks drip drip dripping and even howls of pain from dying people, all normal in Gastown.

Then there's the door, the man looked at his arm, charred and bright red with flesh that wasn't already charcoaled.

 **"Smelt a lot like barbecued rat, anyway not the time to be making myself hungry"**

Jackson hardly owned scrap or any type of trade for luxuries like decent food, whatever he had went to his car and he lived on the bare minimum.

 **"Fist meet door, knock knock, dead man calling"**

Jackson doesn't like relying on anyone nor does he like anyone tampering with his body that includes fixing it."

"Yep!" A plump man opened the door he looked like a fume head, a freakin' nitrous oxide inhaler. This is the guy that was going to fix his arm "great something interesting, do come in mate" Abdominous gestured for Jackson to come in.

"I'm not willing to trade anything, just fix me in time for the race and I won't take your head off" Jackson got straight to the point, no need to mess about, Jackson wanted to get sorted and destroy some cars, kill some people and get the blood flowing again.

"Don''t worry mate I'm here to help, not kill your arse" The man chuckled and his belly wobbled, it was very rare to ever see a fat person in the wastes was it an unlucky chromosome or just hording food? Jackson stared at Abdominus, the doc seemed like any normal guy, but that didn't mean that trust was between them "Yer gonna have to take that jacket off mate or else I can't bandage this bit" The big guy patted the top of his own arm, "Come on jus' sit" Abdominus closed the door as Jackson finally walked in and sat down in the chair. There was a War Boy slouched in the corner and Jackson cocked his head in curiosity, was he dead?

"Oh don't worry Scab's jus 'ad a long week" Abdominus spoke walking over to a cupboard and getting bandages out as well as what looked like clear cleaning fluid.

"Listen no funny business" Jackson smiled as he pulled out his pistol "Now I'm being serious... hell why wouldn't I be I have a gun to your fumer head" he added as he seen Abdominous not even flinch.

 **"Have to hand it to the man he wasn't afraid of the gun, I wonder if he knew it wasn't loaded The Outcrier sure didn't, brave or stupid? Well probably both but everyone has been there before."**

"Don't care" Abdominus replied as he continued to grab things out of his medical storage "I lost my life a long time ago…" he added quietly. Jackson was unusually quiet reflecting on what the Roadkill leader said while he was tied down.

 _~ "What happened to the little girly you were transporting?"_

 _That was a good question, what had happened to Gizmo?_

 _Poor kid~_

"So I know you're up for the races, that the reason you here? Get a fix up?" The large man asked, Jackson nodded still trusting Abdominus "I've heard of your nuttery, Thunderbird. Quite the gathering of people who want you dead"

"Fuck it" Jackson holstered his pistol, relaxing slightly but alert enough to keep an eye on Abdominus.

 **"So he patched me up and that Scab kid woke up and just sat there, he was muttering about not being allowed to leave Gastown saying that he still had enough blood to fuel another legend. Whatever that meant, screw the stories about Scrotus and his adversary that was old news now it's all about who controls that aqua cola"**

"There you go; you'll be feeling better within the hour." Abdminous threw the spare bandages onto an empty table and the used swabs in a bin across the room, with Jackson all patched up he wandered back through the underbelly of Gastown and off to the races he went.

 **"Anyway no explanation necessary because it was so simple, all the destruction filling me up, happy to hear all the screaming and heat of the fire spitting up from the cars in front of me that I just rammed, shooting the fuel tank of another car to the right of me. I could recite the race, like some fucked up William Shakespeare."**

"We have a winner!" The Outcrier announced and the audience cheers, just happy to see the destruction of that day, just like the old monster trucks but with a lot more death. Jackson's car was lit up with spotlights high atop the stage, his car was being shown off to the masses, the crippled of Gastown and raiders who would want to have his car as a statement of their own. "So what'cha win huh? Not yer standard prize" The Outcrier ushered for one of his minions to present the prize of the race its winner. The prize wasn't a prize at all, it was a human being.

Jackson gritted his teeth, he detests slavery and anything near it, he looked at this woman, she was shaky and had shackles around her ankles attached to a chain of which the slaver had in his hands. This poor woman, other than looking like the whole world had something against her she was a human being capable of receiving good treatment, even in the shitstorm of the wasteland.

 **"No one should ever live their lives indebted to someone else and forever I will see it as wrong, I only wish I could liberate most of the people working for those Buzzards. So anyway here's what I did"**

Taking his pistol from the holster around his back he put a bullet in between the eyes of the slavemaster, it took less than a heartbeat, blink and you would have missed it, the whole stadium reacted in shock and there was a few hollers of enthrallment but I guess that was the reaction that a death got these days. Jackson certainly smirked but the woman collapsed to the floor pleading for her life, very few things in this life made his heart sink, this 'prize' certainly made him doubt that the world would ever revert to a state of normalcy.

The woman had collapsed onto the floor and began pleading for her life, Jackson certainly would have preferred the original prize of an engine but this slavery had to be dealt with, so Jackson turned to the unofficial mayor of the racetrack, The Outcrier then cried out in response "Ah, I hate guns!, why do you always have to point it at me!" so Jackson obliged and holstered his pistol.

"Get ready to run" Jackson said to the woman as he searched the body of the slaver for the keys, he then threw them at her as he stood back up; the slave woman fumbled with them and unlocked her shackles then did as exactly as told, she ran for her life. Jackson never minded that she never said thank you, but he turned his attention to The Outcrier and looked at him with anger in his eyes and then spoke "Just for the sake of your life, your slavers lives and my future on this track, I suggest that next time you change your reward system, just because its fucking stupid" then composing himself he clenched his fists and gave The Outcrier a sudden right hook to the face, knocking the man to the ground his 'Lectricity boy didn't know what to do.

 **"Well he did just give me a fuckin' slave for a prize that should have been a modification of sorts. And he was in the way of the exit. So that's when I drove away, full of the energy that I needed to have to go about to wreak havoc in the wasteland... Thing is it didn't go as planned, here's me driving along listening to ACDC's Highway to Hell, then I'm ambushed by a bunch of your powdered battle pups and now I'm here. Hanging upside down like some demented bad, well bat, I'm already demented.**

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There's the third chapter, our resident badass/arsehole/annoying bastard I call CaptainSchrodinger gave me a present and thus motivated me to put this up immediately. We say greetings in any case and appreciate you for reading.

*whispers* Not really he just want to hear it. its just because I write it all down on paper first then put it up, its a task to put words to page then back to screen. thank you for popping by.


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